


What's in Name

by Gwydion



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, M/M, Modern Middle Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9621983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwydion/pseuds/Gwydion
Summary: Bilbo Baggins was called many things. Took, Baggins, Burglar, Thief, Traitor, Love...Who was he, really?No one seemed to agree on the right name. Was he more of a Took or more of a Baggins? That was the matter of discussion in Hobbiton and Tuckborough for years. And he never truly understood why he couldn't be just Bilbo. Why it was so very important to fit in in any particular category.





	

Bilbo Baggins dreamt. He was lying in his comfortable bed in a room that was just enough chilly to be comfortable underneath a thick winter duvet. The night was quiet, as was usual for those dark freezing nights of February, but his mind was not. Over and over he heard voices repeating phrases he heard repeatedly through his entire life:

_"But you're also a Took."_  
_"He's not a proper Baggins, as was his father."_  
_"Look at him, no Bella's blood in him. What a Baggins bore."_

He woke up. Not with a start, this was no nightmare. But there was an uncomfortable feeling that had him looking into the darkness as if it got the answers for him. His question was very simple. Who was he, really?

Of course, he was thirty-seven years old man living in a village of Hobbiton in the Shire. He had a career as a linguist and translator that he enjoyed very much. Yet it seemed that it was never enough. He had to be Bilbo Somebody. And no one seemed to agree on the right name. Was he more of a Took or more of a Baggins? That was the matter of discussion in Hobbiton and Tuckborough for years. And he never truly understood why he couldn't be just Bilbo. Why it was so very important.

Maybe, just maybe, that was also why he was so angry with Gandalf, occasionally. His mother's old friend always believed that he should address Bilbo as a Took. And while Bilbo understood that Gandalf Grey had a soft spot for Belladonna, it irritated him. Bungo Baggins was never adventurous in the general meaning of the word. He loved his family, he was practical hard-working and reliable. People mistook his common sense for boorishness, his quiet ways for being standoffish. And yet, Bilbo remembered very well that while his mother laughed brightly and was easy at company, only Bungo alone could make her smile. Oh, how he missed that warm, loving, little smile. Bungo never travelled outside the Shire, he wasn't curious nor interested in the world outside the bubble. But he fought and fought to marry Belladonna against the wishes of both families in his polite, calm and very unrelenting manner. It wasn't Belladonna who won this battle and Bilbo doubted anyone truly understood it. 

Bilbo shook his head and turned on a side, feeling his temper rise. Because it was Gandalf again who called on him that afternoon on a whim. As ever, Gandalf passed over any mention of Bungo and talked only about Bella's spirit. Bilbo loved his mother dearly, he did, but the way people tended to ignore Bungo's existence... Better not to think of it.

 

He checked his phone to find out it was the in-between hour. At three o'clock in the morning the world halted. It was too late and too early but now... it was the right time to get up to escape these thoughts.

Bilbo went to kitchen but didn't switch on any lights. Artificial light made his eyes burn and he knew the way around his cottage well. He put on the kettle and waited for tea, keeping his mind carefully blank. Because if he thought of Gandalf...

No.

The old man had no power over him. He could talk of "dear Bella" and "Tooks" as much as he wanted. Bilbo was his own person and not a mere mixture of his parents.

He decided for a huge mug of liquorice, an acquired taste from his university years, and found some biscuits he baked that afternoon. If he has another sleepless night, he might as well make it comfortable.

-

Gandalf called him in the morning to tell him not to bury himself in that cottage and hide from the world as his father did. Bilbo hang up on him.

He was not hiding. He was just too tired to care about Gandalf's another "adventure". His life wasn't something worth a biography or a novel but he didn't care. If his life was little, it was enough. What Gandalf deemed moments of greatness were Bilbo's most hurtful memories. If Grey called once more Bilbo would not hold his temper.

He wasn't going anywhere. Not again. Not with him.

\- 

Bilbo decided to go to Rivendell. His alma mater would offer him a refuge from Gandalf's constant badgering, Elrond's invitation to make some guest lectures for literature students couldn't come at better time. Of course he checked very carefully but didn't find any trace of Gandalf's scheming.

And oh, he longed to see the mountains. The Shire hills were very beautiful, but the grey sharpness of the mountains surrounding the Rivendell valley had their own very special charm that made his heart heavy. Though if his thoughts ever wandered to a very different mountain, who knew?

-

He saw it again and again. His fussy ways and way of dressing always convinced students that he was going to bore them to death. Long faces greeted his appearance, linguistics is for old boring professors and he was going to be one, wasn't he?  
Bilbo felt Elrond's little smile, he called it a sort of Jekyll/Hyde transformation. From a polite little man to an animated out speaking person full of interest and passion. Bilbo always felt the energy and drive dissipate before he could grasp them. It came always in rushes and never stayed for long. Yet it was enough to lit a spark in the lecture hall. The students set up straighter, laughed when he intended, and seemed to genuinely enjoy it.  
And then it came and he should have expected it.  
At the end a student raised a hand.  
"Yes?" He asked and for a moment felt a mountain of anxiety looming over him before he quenched it.  
"Mr. Baggins, is it true that you were the interpreter during the  
Battle of the Five Armies peace talks?"  
"That is correct, yes." He felt his face shut down and shoulders tense and struggled to relax.  
"Could you tell us more about the Arkenstone Treaty? How was is to communicate in four different languages with five different nations when every one of them insisted on using their own?"  
He exhaled.  
"Very taxing, certainly. At the end of the day I could hardly talk at all."  
He plunged into details about the importance of cultural context and how speaking a language may alter one's way of behaving and that was that. No one ever mentioned how it all ended in disaster.

\- 

_"Boggins."_  
_"Burglar."_  
_"Traitor!"_  
_..._  
_"Love."_

His head was spinning and he was struggling to focus. He sat up on the bed and covered his face with his hands. If he thought it would make any difference he would have covered his ears because his mind could recall those words with such vividness that it felt as if the man was standing right next to him.  
_"I should have expected that someone with such a way with words is a liar. But you are also a thief. You betrayed us all."_  
Hurt.  
The blue eyes were cold and Bilbo could feel the cold spreading through his own veins. And for the first time in his life he could not find the words. Something what his entire adult existence was based on. From then on, his world got quiet.  
He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. Inhaled. Exhaled.  
Got up.  
He looked outside the window at the serene beauty of Rivendell covered in snow. Oh, how he longed.

-

Spring always came with a hope of new beginning. Everything was fresh and green and the smell of earth made Bilbo smile.  
The snow finally melted and he was free to roam the roads of the Shire once again.  
"I am very fond of walking," he had once said.  
"Of course you are fond. You are not capable to love anything." Lobelia's tongue was always sharp and he had not replied then. He grew softer in the same way he grew harder.  
Bilbo looked around to see his neighbours working in their gardens and went to his own. He didn't stop until he reached the gate at the very bottom of it and stepped on a path. He felt a bit uncertain but he did not hesitate. If he did, he would get lost.

-

_"... I am the one who works unseen."_  
_"You have many names for someone so small." Smaug sneered._  
_"Yes I have. That has always been the issue."_  
_"Do you know what it means to have many names, thief? That you have none to claim." Silence had never been more deafening._

-

Many people went on walk to think, Bilbo walked to quiet his mind. It seemed that his mind needed to focus on everything else than himself when he walked. He observed birds, beetles, flowers, trees. Everything was buzzing with energy and he had to smile. Springtime in the Shire was the loveliest season, summer often got too hot with short showers of rain and storms. He liked to spend autumn in Rivendell and on one memorable occasion in the Golden Wood of Lórien. He still could not believe he got the scholarship, it was the best semester he had in uni. And that was saying something.  
He walked for two hours and got home just before the day started to fade. On a whim he opened his laptop and started browsing. There was not much work to be done anyway. His translation of the newest Orocarni best-selling author was due in a month and he was already finishing the last chapter. This particular addition to the popular wave of psychological drama did not really filled him with excitement.  
A very familiar face popped up in the news section and he abruptly closed the page.  
"He looks well," Bilbo said to himself and tried to get the image of Thorin Durinul out of his head. It was a battle he could not win.

\- 

_"The Prince. The King under the Mountain. Oakenshield. Beggar. Madman. Love-"_

He blinked into the night and groaned. Bilbo was not able to get a proper sleep for what felt as years and he definitely did not want him to be in them. Blue eyes faded from his brain as he remembered the one conversation he had with Thorin.

_"Aren't you tired of it?" He kept his voice down, the rest of the company was sleeping and if Bilbo had an urgent need to know the answer, he did not want them to hear it._  
_"Of what?" When tired, Thorin's voice was deeper and somehow gentler._  
_"Of having so many names."_  
_"You mean Oakenshield?"_  
_"No, they address you with so many different titles. Isn't it tiring?"_  
_A silence. A sigh._  
_"Sometimes."_  
_"Who are you, then?"_  
_"Who they need me to be."_  
_"And who do you want to be?"_  
_The blue eyes met his._  
_"I am Thorin. And who do you want to be, Master Baggins?"_  
_"Bilbo."_

-

_"Fool of a Took! I've had it with your stubbornness."_

Another tray of biscuits was cooling on the table. Why he was so obsessed with baking them he did not know. There was something very calming about the process and after years of practice he could probably bake in his sleep and have delicious results.  
Also, it was a great stress reliever and Gandalf popped in again that morning. Bilbo did not shout but it was a close thing. Gandalf, on the other hand, did.  
He slammed his doors to Gandalf's face. Something that would shock his mother and disappoint his father. True, Bungo never really liked Grey because he could feel the quiet dismissal if Belladonna's mentor. Yet he never let his manners slip in the way Bilbo did. And Bella never truly understood Bilbo's impatience with Gandalf.  
Why the man could not let go of the idea Bilbo did not understand. He did not want to go back to Erebor. Well, he wanted so much but he couldn't. When he imagined the welcome that would no doubt await him... No thank you, he will pass. No matter what Gandalf had to say about it.

There was a knock on his door and he groaned. Gandalf stormed away so that left Lobelia for another round of verbal combat or some nosy cousin trying to invite themselves for tea. Well, maybe if it was Drogo... he liked the young man, he reminded him a bit of Bungo. A little more cheerfully he went to the door when another knock came, louder this time.  
"Coming, coming!" The person behind the door was clearly impatient and Bilbo came to an abrupt halt. A sudden flush of dread overcame him and he couldn't make himself to open the door.  
After another knock that did nothing to animate Bilbo a face flashed in the window next to the door.  
"Master Baggins, I would like to talk."  
Master Baggins.  
Thorin's voice sounded a bit strained.  
"Master Baggins?" Impatient.  
He could not be Master Baggins again. Too many things happened between, too many names he heard later.  
"Please, I heard you before."  
Some part of his brain kicked on and his body moved.  
The door opened silently and he looked up to face the man from five years ago.  
Thorin's expression was unreadable.  
Bilbo moved to a side to let Thorin pass and the man did so quickly.  
"I heard you are doing well, Erebor prospers." Bilbo still could do small talk and he lounged for it as if it was his anchor.  
"Yes, it does, but... I hadn't come for a chatter over tea." Thorin stopped himself, realizing he was pushing.  
"I am here to apologize." Gentle tone.  
"Now? Why?"  
"If you had not... I am so very sorry I didn't understand. I didn't understand at all."  
"I am a traitor and a thief. My words are poison."  
They were still standing in the hallway and Bilbo turned towards the kitchen.  
"You never were. I was deaf and blind to all. I didn't see..." Thorin's voice stopped him again.  
"I took it from you and that is the truth." He was defensive and he couldn't figure out why. Here was the man he wanted to see more than anything, saying what he longed to hear. Why make it harder?  
"We both know it was not that simple. I am sorry for what I did and for what I said. I wish I hadn't."  
He turned back and looked at Thorin and saw more lines and more shadows to his face. but also a certain calmness that was never there before.  
"I thought you were not yourself," Bilbo admitted after a while.  
"For a long time I feared I became exactly what I was afraid of."  
Bilbo looked up sharply and for a fleeting moment looked Thorin straight in the eyes. "You may have not been yourself but you never ever were your grandfather." His gaze slipped to the floor again.  
"Who was I, then?" Thorin came closer to him and Bilbo fought with himself to stay. He took a deep breath but was unable to answer.  
"Maste-" Thorin started and Bilbo suddenly felt furious.  
"I am not Master Baggins, you are not Master Durinul and if you need to know it so desperately, you were not the Thorin I knew, not the Thorin I loved. I lost you then and couldn't find you and then I..."  
"Bilbo..." The softest of whispers.  
Blue eyes that were so cold so long ago were filled with something utterly different and Bilbo's heart felt heavy.  
"Can we be us again? Just you and me? Just Bilbo and...-"  
"Thorin."  
It was as if the spell was broken and a curse was lifted. Still...  
"I don't know. You are so much more now."  
"I don't want to be. Not to you."  
"Thorin..."  
"Bilbo."  
"We can try."

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed, published on a whim, never to be touched by my hand again.


End file.
